


Polaroid

by saviorbrother



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom!Sam, M/M, Stripper!Sammy, Wincest - Freeform, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 07:51:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3241979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saviorbrother/pseuds/saviorbrother
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean finds out Sam used to be a stripper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Polaroid

Dean finds a photo of him, Polaroid. Tightest jeans he's ever seen on Sam and the little slip of navy blue panties peeking out from his waistband. The blush on his smiling face as he's on the pole, leg hooked around it.

Maybe that's what landed him here after Sam saw him frozen in the library, holding the picture, eyes wide.

"Hm, thought I lost that years ago," Sam murmurs without emotion, looking over Dean's shoulder.

Dean doesn't talk and Sam walks out the room.

"You were a fuckin' stripper?!" Dean yells minutes later.

\---

And Dean thinks that's the reason he's sitting in a cushioned chair in the library, at then end of one of the tables, eyes blindfolded. 

Sam told him it was surprise and Dean had to stay sitting in this chair. He isn't tied down or anything, but his eyes being covered makes him nervous.

"Okay, just a sec," Sam says, shuffling something on the table.

Something clicks. A radio?

"Take the blindfold off," Sam whispers.

Dean reaches up and snatches it off.

"Step inside, walk this way. You and me.  
babe, Hey, hey!"

Def fucking Leppard. 

"Today's a special day, Dean," Sam smiles.

And Sam. In tight black jeans, unbuttoned. Lacy black material showing.

"Those panties?" Dean breathes.

His little brother steps up to him, shoves Dean all the way back onto the chair roughly, hair framing his face.

"Shut up and enjoy," Sam smirks.

Dean nods and slumps down, spreading his legs.

"Lookin' like a tramp, like a video vamp  
Demolition woman, can I be your man?"

His little brother's hips sway to the music as he turns around, throws a long leg over both of Dean's. Ass on full display as his arms run up from his hips to his chest, muscles flexing.

"Razzle 'n' a dazzle 'n' a flash a little light  
Television lover, baby, go all night."

He stands, then, walking backward a little to the table and sitting on it, long legs spreading. Dean could touch him if he reached for him, fingers could drag along tight denim and warm thighs.

"Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet  
Little miss ah innocent sugar me, yeah."

Sam makes a show of biting his lip and sliding his big hands along his inner thighs, watching Dean.

He lays back slowly and pinches a nipple while his other hand gropes his crotch, dick fattening up in his jeans as the next few lines play. And Dean wants to see the panties, wants Sam to make this whimpering noises louder.

"Pour some sugar on me  
Ooh, in the name of love  
Pour some sugar on me  
C'mon, fire me up  
Pour your sugar on me  
Oh, I can't get enough."

Arch of a long, broad back, ripple of muscles, gasping. Sam turns over, up on all fours, spreads his legs and the jeans stretch tight over his ass.

"Let me touch," Dean begs a little.

"I'm hot, sticky sweet."

Sam straightens up to put a hand through his hair as he looks over his shoulder.

"From my head to my feet, yeah."

Index finger into the back of his jeans to pull his teasingly down over the curve of his cheeks.

"Mirror queen, mannequin, rhythm of love  
"Sweet dream, saccharine, loosen up."

The black jeans pull down over a plump ass and Dean swears his heart skips a beat. Sam stops right below his ass and bends forward on an elbow.

"Trying to take my soul," Dean growls, moving forward.

"You gotta squeeze a little, squeeze a little  
"Tease a little more."

He extends his arms to take both cheeks in a firm grip, spanking Sam with both hands before gripping tight again, spreading them.

"Oh yeah," he whispers, the song playing on raunchy and hot beside him.

Sam cries out when a thumb presses through the panties at his wet hole.

"Not yet!" He gasps, swatting Dean's hands away.

Dean grumbles as the guitar solo comes on and Sam knows he's got to do it just like he practiced.

He turns back over gracefully, grabbing the can of whip cream from behind the radio as he lets his legs hang off the edge.

"No way," Deans eyes widen, pink mouth dropping open. 

Sam nods and kicks his jeans the rest of the way off and immediately going a step forward to straddle Dean's lap again, shaking the can.

"You got the peaches, I got the cream," Sam sings along into Deans ear, popping the cap off and leaning his head back to take some in his mouth.

Dean pulls him down by the hair to push his tongue inside Sam's cream filled mouth, sharing it hotly between them as Sam rocks down.

"Do you take sugar? one lump or two?"

Its a mess, their faces getting sticky with it. Dean snatches the bottle from his hand and puts some all the way down his neck and chest.

"Wasn't suppose to--oh, Dean--happen like this," Sam groans, pushing Dean into his neck as they hump against each other.

His brothers wet tongue sucks and licks up the mess from his neck, more spit than whip cream now.

"Don't care, don't fucking care," Dean grits, breathing hard.

He pulls back enough to crane his neck enough to get at Sam's chest, sucking the sugary sweetness off his nipple.

 

"Fuck me," Sam utters, desperately, humping Dean, dick trapped inside the panties and peeking over the top.

Dean raises up at the words, bringing Sam up with him, younger brother squeaking in surprise.

"Over the chair," Dean growls, setting Sam down.

He doesn't hesitate to do as told, putting both knees onto the chair and bending over the back. It should be heavy enough to hold up.

Dean tugs his belt, jeans, and shirts off, leaving him bare.

He pushes his aching cock up against Sam's lace covered ass, gripping his waist, then his ass.

He thanks God because Sam is the greatest gift he has ever received. 

"Dean," Sam whimpers over his shoulder, hazel eyes begging. 

He grunts and pulls down the panties, kinda sad to see them go, to Sam's knees.

Those are forgotten when he gets to spread Sam open and see his hole wet and ready, twitching in anticipation.

Def Leppard is playing over again on the radio as Dean pushes inside, watching as his length disappears into Sam, his rim stretches wide around his cock.

Sam lets out a low, long breath; spreading his knees as far as the chair will allow him and arching.

"Stripping paid off," Dean laughs breathlessly.

Sam can't answer when Dean fucks quick and shallow into him, suddenly. He shouts and grips the back of the chair tightly, completely at Dean's mercy in this position.

Dean thinks this would be a good shot. The angle just right for a sex tape. Hold the camera from above to see the way his cock slides out of Sam, just till the quivering rim is sucking at his tip, and pounds back in.

"Dean!"

Sam's cries in the background, he'd let the camera follow the long, sweaty line of Sam's back, his broad shoulders, his head thrown back as he pants.

He puts a hand through Sam's hair and pulls his head back, puts his back into it.

Sam sobs loudly and starts to thrust back onto Dean as best as he can, toes curling.

Sam's hole clenches quickly around his cock, he falters for a moment before noticing Sam's left hand jerking himself off fast.

"Oh god, fuck me harder," Sam gasps.

Dean lets go of his hair and grips his hips, thumbs digging into his back dimples as he pounds inside. The chair scrapes the floor a little and they might break that, too.

Sam's body gets jerked back and forth with Deans grip and the smacking of his hips. That tight feeling grips his chest, his balls, a tell that he's going to come hard.

Sam's voice gets higher in octave with every cry until he goes practically silent, until he gives a violent shudder and his breath leaves him in a sobbed rush.

Sam's at his limit, too much stimulation from inside him, has to let go of his dick. He pleads with Dean, doesn't want him to stop, but doesn't want to come yet.

"No, take it," Dean hisses, slapping his ass.

He bites into his forearm against a scream and grips Dean's left. 

"Baby--" Dean cuts off on a sharp cry, rutting deep into Sam, coming.

Sam jerks with the pressure on his prostate, forced into orgasm, cock releasing against the back of the chair.

"So tight," Dean sighs, grinding softly.

His brother twitches and shudders with aftershocks, whimpering into his arm.

"Ssh, ssh," Dean whispers, pulls out slow.

He spreads Sam open to see if his come will leak out his puffy entrance.

"Come on, push it out, Sammy," Dean prompts, pushing a finger deep into him, twisting it and pulling it out.

Sam groans lightly and pushes outward, thick come spilling out.

"Yeah," Dean murmurs.

Dean picks up his green shirt to wipe Sam's thighs clean, pulls the panties all the way off, and helps Sam stand. 

"Special day, huh?" Dean says softly, kissing Sam's slick lips softly.

"Happy Birthday, Dean," Sam smiles, dimples deepening. 

"Yeah, yeah, babe. Go lay down," Dean orders, knows Sam has to be tired.

"Mhhm," Sam hums, walking gracefully out into the hallway, ass bare, whip cream in hand.

Dean shakes his head, smirk on his face as he picks up their clothes and shuts off the music. Then, his stomach growls.

"Hey, Sammy! Where's my cake!" Dean yells to him.

They'd eat in his bed, fuck it.

"Sam?"

He hears his little brother flirtatious laughter and the shaking of the whip cream can.


End file.
